


Come Back

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, Eridan goes to Gamzee for some pailing and becomes attached, Gamzee in the vents, Gamzee's sober but all chill, Gentle Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Meteor AU, Pailing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 02:18:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3339917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eridan, lonely, comes to find Gamzee after hearing a rumor that he's hiding in the vents of the meteor. They pail, they relax, they get attached to each other. Gamzee knows Eridan will always come back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Back

**Author's Note:**

> I just really ship this but ain't about the abuse life

Your motherfuckin’ fishbrother is probably the sweetest little guppy in all of Alternia’s oceans. Just look at him. He’s got those plump, pouty lips, all bruised up and smeared with paint. His eyes shine behind those thick-framed glasses he insists on wearing. (You know for a fact he don’t need ‘em. His vision is as sharp as a shark’s sense of scent.) Those needly teeth he’s sporting sure do pack a motherfuckin’ punch, but they’re nice, at the same time. 

You don’t even wanna’ get started on his hips. Shit, those mile-long legs, too. He’s got those little squirmy movements, mimicking his bulge, which is always heavy and lashing between his legs. And that sweet, sweet nook of his. Always so fuckin’ soaked, slick and open for you. Just like it is now.

He’s settled on your platform, all spread out, limbs askew, glasses crooked on his face. He’s got your facepaint smeared across his chest, his neck, his face. His scarf and cape are long gone, his shirt hanging lopsidedly off one shoulder. He’s a right mess, gills all flared out, fins splayed wide on either side of his face. You want nothing more than to pin him right back down and fuck him. (You know he wants it too, judging by the way his bulge is wetly dragging back and forth on his belly, searching for contact.)

You hunker down over top of him, loose pants slipping on your hips as you scoot up on the platform. He makes a little face at you, all bark, no bite, and you reach down, cooing at him, to play with the gills lining his ribs. His ugly expression fades as his operculum open under your claws, and you chuckle gently. He’s such a pushover, your little plaything. 

It ain’t like he’s in any sort of control, no siree. He might think he is, but he’s the one whose crawled all the way up into these motherfuckin’ vents, searchin’ for your bulge. It’s like he’s trying to preen your confidence for you. He came to you all on his own accord, all because of hearing the rumor that you were in the vents, sane. He was such a horny little fucker when he first found you; whimperin’ and grindin’ his thin hips all up on you. Not that you minded.

You know what it’s like to be without touch for such a long time. You’re glad he came to you. He wasn’t scared of your scars, just traced the edges with his tongue where they crossed your mouth. That pleased you to no end. You’re a little high, yeah. A little relaxed, a little nonchalant, but still sure of yourself. You knew everything about him, you knew how to take him apart, all because you were pleasantly buzzed, but still in your own headspace.

You slide your hands down from his gills to his skinny hips, smoothing your claws over his scaly skin. His back bows, his hips angled up towards you, and you smirk, completely smug, letting his bulge strain for yours.

You reach down again, position yourself, and cough a little, letting your bulge unsheathe right into his nook. He chirrs in pleasure, filed little nails scratching along the broad plane of your back. He jerks a bit, trying to take you faster than he should, but you let him. You know the pain grounds him, takes him down the notches he needs, helps him to relax.  
You know.

He edges closer to climax with every little roll of your hips you give, taking him gently and slowly. His nook flutters about your heavy bulge, struggling to keep you inside as you begin to thrust. You don’t piston into him, you don’t hold him down, you don’t fuck him. You pail him, nice and easy, hands on his hips, kissing at his open mouth. 

He catches at your lips with his teeth, careful not to draw blood, and when he comes, you’ve got a bucket prepared. He shakes against you as he comes down from the high that comes with your bulge, but urges you to keep going. 

You speed up a little, grinding your hips on the downwards push of your bulge. He takes it like a champ, mewling softly, and you spill into the bucket, even as he whines for you to fill him up. You shush him, dangerously close to pale, and he squirms, and you laugh. Eridan settles up against your chest, spooning back against you, and you pet down his chest, kissing and mouthing at the back of his neck.

He purrs low in his throat, and you glance around the room in the vents that you’ve come to occupy. You briefly wonder whether or not the others can hear him cry out, and you chuckle softly, nibbling a bit. “Such a good boy.” You mumble, and he pushes back against you harder.

You squeeze him to you in a tight hug, and he rolls to face you. “Thanks, Gam.” He mumbles, accent as thick as always, sleepy and content. 

“A’ course, brother. Ain’t no reason to all up an’ get your gratitude on. You done me a favor, too.” You reply, threading your claws into his tousled hair. 

He smiles, then tucks his face to your chest, and you hold him there until he’s ready to dress himself and head back into the light, away from you, away from the pleasure, and back into the life that the others have created on the meteor. You don’t worry. 

He’ll always come back.


End file.
